Hunters of Gor (9 page)

not seen her before. She carried a vessel of paga. She was barefoot on the

tiles.

She saw me, and gasped. Her hand fled before her mouth. She turned, and ran back

into the kitchen.

I smiled.

I snapped my fingers for the proprietor to come to my table. He did so.

“One of your slaves,’ I said, “just stepped from the kitchen, and then returned

to it.”

He looked at me.

“Send that slave to me,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” he said.

I waited.

In moments, the girl approached, carrying her vessel of paga.

She knelt before me.

“Paga,” I said.

Elizabeth Cardwell poured me paga.

We looked at one another. We did not speak.

I well remember Elizabeth Cardwell. Once we had cared for one another. Together,

we had served Priest-Kings. I had brought her, in such service, into much

danger. Then, in the Sardar, I had decided what was best for her. She would be

returned to Earth. She would be freed of the perils of Gor. There she might

contract a desirable marriage. There she might be safe. There she might own a

large house, and have the convenience of labor-saving devices.

She had dared to protest.

What place was Gor for a woman?

I had made up my mind.

I knew what was in her best interest, and I would see to that interest.

I knew what was best for her.

But that night she had fled the Sardar. Ubar of the Skies, my great war tarn,

for some reason, though, he had slain men for this attempt, permitted her, only

a girl, to saddle him and fly.

I had seen what was best for her. But she had refused to accept my will.

Ubar of the Skies returned, four day later. In fury I had driven him from the

Sardar.

I had not seen him since.

I had seen what was best for Elizabeth Caldwell. But she had not seen fit to

accept my will.

“Tarl,” said the girl, now, whispering it.

“Go to the wall,” I said.

She put down her vessel of paga, and rose lightly, I saw the beauty of her body

beneath the silk. She went to the wall, where Tendite had been chained.

I went to the proprietor. “Key,” I said, handing him a copper tarn disk.

It was number ten.

I went to the wall, and indicated that the girl should kneel before ring ten.

It, like the others, had, strung through it, a short length of chain, some five

inches, each end of the chain terminating in an opened slave bracelet.

She put her hands above and behind her head, and I snapped her wrists into the

slave bracelets.’

I sat down, cross-legged, across from her.

She smiles. “Tarl,” she whispered.

“I am Bosk,” I said.

She moved her wrists in the slave bracelets. She smiled. “It seems you have

found me,” she said.

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“I sought the northern forests,” she said. “I knew that girls, sometimes are

free in them.”

She put down her head.

“So you arrived at the edge of the forests,” I said, “and released the tarn.”

“Yes,” she said.

“And you entered the forests?”

“Yes,” he said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I lived for some days in the forest, but poorly, on berries and nuts, I tried

to make snares. I caught nothing. Then, one morning, when I was lying on my

stomach beside a stream, drinking, I lifted my head to find myself surrounded by

armed panther girls. There were eleven of them. How pleased I was to see them!

They seemed so proud, and strong, and were armed,”

“Did they permit you to join their band?” I asked.

“They had not been satisfied with me,” said the girl.

“What happened then?” I asked.

“They told me to remove my clothing. Then they tied my hands behind my back and

put a leash to my throat. They took me to the banks of the Laurius, where they

tied me to a pole set in the stones, my hands over my head, my neck, belly and

ankles, too, bound to it. A river craft passed. I was sold for one hundred arrow

points. I was purchased by Sarpedon, master of this tavern, who occasionally

scouts the river, to pick up such girls.

I looked at her. “You were foolish,” I said.

Her fists clenched in the slave bracelets. Her collar, yellow and enameled,

shone in the darkness, at her throat. Her hair, a black sheen, loose, fell over

her shoulders, and to the small of her back. She was beautiful in the bit of

yellow silk. She pulled at the bracelets. Then she relaxed.

She smiled. “It seems,” she said, “you have found me, Tarl.”

“I am Bosk,” I said.

She shrugged.

“What has happened to you, since we parted?” she asked.

“I have become rich,” I told her.

“And what of Priest-Kings?” she asked.

“I no longer serve Priest-Kings,” I told her.

She looked at me, troubled.

“I serve myself,” I said, “and do what I wish.”

“Oh,” she said.

Then she looked up at me.

“Are you angry,” she asked, “that I fled the Sardar?”

“No,” I said. “It was a brave act.”

She smiled at me.

“I now seek Talena,” I said. “I will hunt for her in the green forests.”

“Do you not remember me?” she asked.

“I seek Talena,” I told her.

She put down her head. Then she lifted it. “I did not want to be returned to

Earth,” she said. “You will not return me to Earth, will you?”

I regarded her. “No,” I said. “ I will not return you to Earth.”

“Thank you, Tarl,” she whispered.

For a time we said nothing.

“You are now rich?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Rich enough to buy me?” she asked.

“Ten thousand times over,” I told her, and truly.

She relaxed visibly in the chains, and smiled. “Tarl—“ she said.

“Bosk” I corrected her, sharply.

“I would hear my name on your lips once more,” she whispered. “Speak my name.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Elizabeth Cardwell,” she said. “Vella of Gor!”

“What is locked on your left ankle?” I asked.

“Slave bells,” she said.

I put my hand in the bit of silk. “What is this?” I asked.

“Slave silk,” she whispered.

I pointed to the yellow collar on her throat. “And that?” I asked.

“The collar of Sarpedon,” she whispered, “my master.”

“What is your name?” I asked.

“I see,” she said coldly.

“Your name?” I asked.

“Tana,” she said.

I smiled. It was the same name which had been that of one of the girls I had had

Thurnock sell this morning, one of the two panther girls. It is a fairly common

Gorean name, but no heard of that often. It was something of a coincidence that

the two girls had both that name, the one sold this morning, the other now

chained before me.

“Your name is Tana,” I told her. You are simply Tana, the slave girl.”

Her fists clenched in the slave bracelets. She was indeed that now, simply an

unimportant, lowly paga slave in Lydius.

I regarded her beauty.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

“I have paid the price of a cup of paga,” I told her.

I regarded her in the shadows of the small alcove, lit by the tiny lamp, its

draft carried by the tiny, ventilating hole above it.

She still wore the chains I had put her in. the bit of yellow silk, crumpled,

soaked with sweat, lay to one side.

“How does it feel to be a paga slave?” I asked.

She turned her head to one side.

I had exacted the full performance of the paga slave from her.

“You are angry,” she said, “because I fled from you. Now you take your vengeance

on me.”

“I merely used you as the paga slave you are,” I told her. It was true. I had

treated her no worse, or better, than such slaves are commonly treated.

Moreover, she knew that. She knew I had forced her to serve precisely as a paga

slave, no more nor less.

I had not taken vengeance on her. I had simply treated her exactly as what she

was.

In my use of her I had, of course, addressed her only as Tana. That was the name

of the slave.

She looked at me, in her chains. I sat cross-legged, was buckling my belt. “What

are you going to do now?” she asked.

“I am going to seek Talena,” I said. “I will hunt for her in the forests.”

She lay back, in the chains. Then she rose to one elbow.

“You are different,” she said, suddenly. “You are different, from when I knew

you.”

“How is that?” I asked, curious.

“You seem harder now,” she said, “less soft, less gentle hearted.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You have become more---“

“Yes?” I asked.

“More Gorean,” she whispered. “You are now like a Gorean man.” She looked at me,

frightened. “That is it,” she said. “You have become a Gorean man.”

I shrugged. “It is not impossible,” I said.

She shrank back, in the chains, against the low, curved wall of the alcove.

I smiled at her.

I fastened the sword, with the sheath straps, to my belt. I began to tie on my

sandals.

When I had finished tieing my sandals, she spoke. “You said that you were rich,”

she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“That you were rich enough to boy me.”

“Yes,” I said. I smiled. “More than ten thousand times over,” I said.

She smiled. “Now that you have found me,” she said, “you will not return me to

Earth, will you?”

“No,” I said. “I will not return you to Earth.” She had fled the Sardar. She had

made her decision. It had been a brave act. I admired her for it. But it had

been an act not without its risks.

“Sarpedon,” she said, “does not know that I was trained in Ar. He will not

charge more than twenty pieces of gold for me.”

“No,” I said, “I do not think he would.”

“It will be good,” she said, “to again be free.”

I could recall that once, it now seemed long ago, this girl, in a marvelously

staged sale, with all the skills of the great auction house, the Curulean, in

Ar, had, with two other girls, Virginia Kent and Phyllis Robertson, brought

fifteen hundred gold pieces. Virginia Kent had become the free companion of the

warrior, Relius of Ar. Ho-Sorl, another warrior of Ar, had obtained Phyllis

Robertson. I expected he still kept her in collar and silk, liking her that way.

Now this girl, once Elizabeth Cardwell, of Earth, now a paga slave in Lydius,

would bring only fifteen or twenty-five pieces of gold. Contexts, and markets,

were interesting.

She was surely as beautiful as she had been, when she had been sold in Ar.

But now, comparatively, she was cheap.

It did not seem to me impossible that I might be able to obtain her for ten.

“Perhaps,” I suggested, “ I could get you for as little as ten,”

She looked at me, angrily. “Perhaps,” she said.

“If I wished,” I added.

“What do you mean?” she whispered.

“I seek Talena,” I told her.

“Buy me,” she whispered. “Buy me. Free me!”

“In the Sardar,” I said, “you made your decision. That decision was not without

risks.”

She looked at me in horror.

“You gambled,” I said. “You lost.”

She shook her head, no!

“Do not think that I do not admire you,” I said. “I do. You performed a brave

act. I admire you greatly for it. But, as I have told you, such acts are not

without their risks. You have made your decision. Not there are consequences to

be paid. You gambled. You lost.”

“Do you know what it is to be a paga slave?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I told her.

“Buy me!” she begged. “Buy me! You are rich! You can buy me!”

“Is that how a slave begs?” I asked.

“Buy Tana!” she wept. “Buy Tana!”

She extended her chained wrists to me. I took her by the arms, and kissed her,

long. I tasted the slave rouge in my mouth.

Then I thrust her back from me.

“What are you going to do?” she begged.

“I am going to leave you here,” I said, “—as a paga slave.”

“No,” she wept. “No!”

I left the alcove, not speaking further to the slave girl. Tana.

Rim and Thurnock were waiting below. It was a bit late now in the afternoon. We

could begin the purchase of supplies in the morning.

I noted that Tendite now, again, served in the tavern. I noticed, too, that,

clad in yellow silk, belled on the left ankle, as another paga girl, the dancer,

she whom Thurnock had sported with, too, carried a vessel of paga about. When

she was not dancing, Sarpedon, I gathered, used her as a common paga slave, not

unlike the others. It was more economical, I supposed, to do so.

“Greetings, Captain,” said Thurnock.

“Greetings, Captain,” said Rim.

Both men seemed well relaxed.

I nodded with my head toward the dancer, now serving as a common paga slave. I

did not wish my men to be cheated. “How much did she cost you?” I asked

Thurnock.

“Since, when not dancing, she serves with the common slaves,” said Thurnock,

“she same, like the others, for the price of a cup of paga.”

“Good,” I said. Thurnock had not been cheated.

The girl looked angrily over her shoulder at Thurnock, and then poured paga.

We were standing near the counter of the proprietor, which is to the left of the

door, as one leaves.

“All my girls,” said Sarpedon, “come with the cup. Even the dancers.” He

grinned. “It is house policy,” he said proudly. He looked at us. “Did masters

enjoy themselves?”